


first of many

by armethaumaturgy



Category: Elsword (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, First Time, Intercrural Sex, M/M, witty banter during sex(tm)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 07:09:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12228051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armethaumaturgy/pseuds/armethaumaturgy
Summary: “It’s an inventor’s job to invent, right?” Psych says, like he’s just talking about the weather.





	first of many

Arc’s insides are like the softest velvet, opening up for Psych’s fingers like they were made for it. Sounds keep pouring from Arc’s lips, no matter how hard he tries to quiet himself. Psych finds it endearing.

Arc makes this melodic gasp when Psych drags his fingers out of him. He's panting heavily, head hanging down. His whole body shivers. 

"Psych..." he mutters, glancing over his shoulder minutely. Psych sits back on his heels as Arc rolls over, red down to his chest. His lips are swollen and just begging to be kissed again, but the lankier tracer worries at them with his teeth, something definitely on his mind. So Psych waits. 

"I..." Arc takes a deep breath, refusing to look Psych in the eye. It takes him a while to force it out, the only sounds in the room their labored breaths and thudding heartbeats. "I'm scared..."

Psych frowns, immediately springing forward and taking a hold of Arc's hand. His touch is gentle, fingers cradling the other's hand. Arc stays there, spread out without shame, but Psych can see the hesitation in his eyes now, in the way they dart all over. 

"Would you like to stop?" Psych asks, completely prepared to do so. 

Arc shifts, glancing at the wall on his left, but his hand stays in Psych's hold, even squeezes back. "No?" It doesn't sound like an answer; Psych doesn't buy it, not yet, lets Arc get his bearings without rush. "I don't want to stop, just..."

"Just no penetration?" Psych supplies when Arc's voice trails off. 

Arc nods, somewhat choppy. In return, Psych grins and leans over him to press their lips together. Their kisses stay languid, lips against lips and breathy moans spilling between them. 

“It’s just…”

“Nah, that’s totally okay,” Psych cut him off, moving the kisses down his chin and neck, on the other side, unmarred by hickies. For now. He gets to work on that, teeth nibbling the fair skin and pulling shaky breaths from his alternate. "Anything you'd like in particular? Cause if not I have an idea."

Arc writhes underneath him, desperately bucking up to get some friction on his leaking cock again. "No, no... Do it."

Psych laughs, teething at the juncture of Arc's neck and collarbone. "You don't even know what it is," he says, amused. 

Arc makes a noise in response, something like a whine and groan at once. "Whatever," he huffs. 

"Alright, get up," Psych instructs, sitting back again and pulling the other along. On their knees both, their heaving chests are much more obvious. Psych grins again, sharp canines poking through. 

Arc watches him with a confused look, but goes along. It’s not like he doesn’t trust Psych; if he’d said he wouldn’t do something, he wouldn’t. Psych’s hands burn pleasantly as they skirt over his sides, resting on his slim hips.

“Spread your legs?” Psych prompts him and Arc does, shifting on the covers. His hands grip Psych’s shoulders to keep himself stable, nails digging into the muscles there.

Psych grabs the bottle of lube again. The lid popping open sounds much louder than it should, but Psych gives him a reassuring smile, leaning forward to kiss him again. Psych’s tongue invading his mouth is distracting enough, pleasant enough, to ignore the squelching of the gel as Psych rubs it on his own cock, moaning quietly into their kisses.

Psych’s hands return, sliding around his hips to rest on his buttocks, squeezing softly and pulling Arc forward. Psych’s cock slides between his thighs, rubbing under his balls. Arc closes his eyes, wrapping his arms around the other earnestly. 

“Clench your thighs for me?” Psych asks, so close to his ear that his hot breath fans over the shell and makes Arc shiver. 

“You’ll make a mess like this,” Arc comments, though he does squeeze his thighs. Psych’s answer is a hissed breath, one hand wandering up and running over the protrusions of his spine. 

“So what? Doesn’t it feel good?” 

The lube squelches between Arc’s thighs, running down in uneven lines. His toes curl as Psych pulls back and thrusts forward again.

“How’d you even… think of this?” Arc asks, all but collapsed on Psych’s shoulder in hopes of hiding his raging blush.

“You don’t like it? We can switch if you’d—!”

“No,” Arc cuts him off, mumbling into the crook of his neck. “No, it’s… good. It’s just… unorthodox.”

Psych laughs, his gentle pace faltering and making Arc’s breath hitch. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t feel good. The way Psych’s cock rubs at his balls and his taut stomach brushing against his straining erection are… nice. Good. Very good, in fact. Arc’s mind is hazy.

“It’s an inventor’s job to invent, right?” Psych says, like he’s just talking about the weather. But his voice is raspy, and he keeps moaning, especially when Arc’s thighs twitch around him, breaking that charade.

“Are you… calling yourself an inventor?”

“Aren’t I?”

“You’re just…” Arc pants, clawing at Psych’s back. He isn’t sure, but he thinks he might’ve drawn blood already. Psych isn’t complaining, though. “You’re… just a brawler… with some electricity…”

“Well you’re just a weak baby with some toys,” Psych throws back.

The both of them start chuckling, the stupidity of their situation, of arguing while they’re having sex, for Ishmael’s sake! hitting them. “I love you,” Arc mumbles, angling his head so he can press his lips against Psych’s again.

“I’ll come if you keep this up,” Psych mutters in between kisses, struggling for breath.

Arc’s lips tug up into a cheeky smirk. “What, you’ll just come if I keep telling you I love you? That’s kinda pathetic, isn’t it?”

“I love you,” Psych breathes heavily right into his ear and Arc’s eyes go wide, cheeks redder, heart faster.

It’s Psych’s turn to leer, immensely enjoying the way Arc’s whole body shakes and he practically slumps forward. His hips seem to have a mind of their own as they thrust up against Psych, trying to gain more friction on his cock.

Psych takes pity on him, sliding one hand from where it had been tracing nonsensical patterns on Arc's back down to his cock, fingers wrapping around it and pumping up and down, eased by all the precum Arc had dribbled onto himself and Psych's stomach.    
  
Arc keens as if on command, back arching and mouth opening into a perfect small 'o'. Psych takes a moment to just admire him like this, thumbing at the leaking tip on every swipe up.    
  
It doesn't take that long for Arc to lose himself. Psych can't pull his eyes away from his flushed face, his screwed eyes and beginnings of tears clinging to his long lashes.    
  
Arc comes like a wave, screaming out something that might have been meant to be Psych's name. His body goes rigid as cum splatters Psych's hand and abdomen.    
  
Psych can't hold himself back any more, thrusting between Arc's slick thighs with abandon. He whispers quiet praise into the other's ear, not quite sure what it is anymore, himself. He just wants Arc to know he thinks he's perfect.    
  
The familiar warmth blooms in Psych's gut and he surges forward, muffling his own moan of competition by biting a mark onto Arc's shoulder.    
  
Arc is shuddering in his grasp even as Psych comes back down from his high. He's the one whispering things now, a hand buried in Psych's sweat-slicked hair.    
  
"You're the best, fuck, tat was so good, Psych I love you," Arc babbles, and it causes Psych's heart to soar.    
  
They're both a mess and he's sure Arc is feeling just as disgusting as himself, but it was so, so worth it. He captures Arc's lips again, cutting off his endless praise. Arc's puffy lips mold against his and Arc even tugs at his hair, making Psych groan heavily.    
  
"We gotta do this again," Arc declares, breathless and spent, barely keeping himself upright.    
  
Psych grins, lopsided and tired. "I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I don't have it in me right now."   
  
"Now right now, dumbass!"   
  
Arc hits Psych's shoulder, not nearly enough for it to hurt. Totally worth it.    
  
"Then absolutely. But right now I propose you hand me the box of tissues, unless you'd like my cum to dry all over your legs."


End file.
